


Blood Gets Thin

by lazarus_lazuli



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, and frankensteining my favorite things together, as in the magicians vampires and general ajacently related nonsense, bc i'm a goober, this is just me going ham
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:48:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23451982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazarus_lazuli/pseuds/lazarus_lazuli
Summary: Quentin Coldwater, a typical clinically depressed super nerd in his 20s, is tired of being typical. He loses himself in his favorite childhood novels, dreaming of something magical and greater. Little does he know that meanwhile, his best friend Julia IS something magical and greater. A self taught witch, Julia is trying desperately to get Quentin's head out of the clouds. But she finds she can no longer protect him after a disturbing incident. She especially can't protect him from the prying vampire Margo "The Destroyer" Hanson and her beloved protege, Eliot Waugh. Not to mention the fact the city is suffering with more and more attacks from soulless husks of vampires called ferals, and Julia accidentally "summoned"... God knows what. All she knows is it's some freaky shit. Between that and an ancient supernatural blood feud that is bigger than both of them, Quentin and Julia find themselves out of their depth and facing uncertainty.
Relationships: Fen/Margo Hanson, Kady Orloff-Diaz/Julia Wicker, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 10
Kudos: 23





	Blood Gets Thin

**Author's Note:**

> This is a weird AU I threw together - the rules of the magical world have changed, and there are a lot of different elements. That will all be explained throughout the fic so I'll save you the exposition. Too much exposition at once is boring. Just know this is basically an AU where the supernatural shit is cranked up to 10 and things have started from scratch (not in the timeline essence... but this is The Magicians so there's no guarantee there won't be any Timey Wimey BS going on).

Parties were barely Quentin’s scene, let alone clubs. But he would do anything for Julia – a trait that was both a blessing and a curse. That night, it felt more like a curse. Hot strobes, sweaty strangers gyrating on each other, music so loud he could feel it in his chest. It was the benign equivalent of being suffocated. Really, Quentin wanted nothing more than to sink into the wall he was pressed against, walk right through it to anywhere else. Fillory, his house, the creepy alleyway next to the building. Anywhere else would be an improvement, really. He searched for Julia, a life reserve in the ocean of social expectations. He finally spotted her from across the room, perched in the lap of her boyfriend, James. She turned to face him as if she sensed his eyes on her, and smiled, shooting him a wink before turning back to her conversation. Quentin sighed. Julia had made herself very clear. She was throwing him out to the wolves, and he was a big boy who had to fend for himself. She wanted him to grow up, be free of the past. Quentin, however, was perfectly content to stay in the same place he’d always been, thumbing through the same worn children’s book pages and feeling the same quiet sadness. It was almost comforting now, in a sick sort of way. A constant companion, sometimes muted, sometimes intense, but never wavering.

Quentin slid along the wall, searching for a place to sit. If he was going to be uncomfortable, he may as well be uncomfortable in a chair rather than on his feet. There was a large couch towards the back of the club, and he slowly made his way towards it, ignoring the fact it was probably covered in God-knows-what kind of stains. He sat down as far away from the two women who were already settled there as he could, sinking into the back of the seat. His arms and legs were tucked close to his body, as if the walls were pressing in on him. It certainly felt that way. He took a tiny sip of the beer in his hand, going back to people watching. A couple not that far off from him were making out, even starting up some heavy petting. He cringed internally. Seriously? Here? In front of all these people?

“I didn’t realize clubs were _that_ sexy,” a strange voice chimed in from next to him. “How much do you wanna bet they’re just gonna start fucking in the middle of the dance floor?”

Quentin whipped around so fast his hair smacked him in the face. Standing beside him, one hand resting on the couch, was a man. A handsome man, admittedly, well dressed with slicked back brown curls and hazel eyes that Quentin could barely maintain a gaze with.

“I-I mean, I would hope not.” Quentin stammered out.

The man chuckled, pointing to the empty spot next to him. “Do you mind?”

“Uh,” Quentin began, but the stranger seemed to take that as a yes as he plopped down next to him, crossing his legs and throwing an arm over the back of the couch, right where Quentin’s shoulders were. Quentin was struck speechless. Not that he could get a word out to begin with.

“It’s interesting, really,” the man said, looking surprisingly thoughtful, like a millennial scholar. “The hedonism, the debauchery, the alcoholism. During the day these people probably are hunched over their keyboards in a shitty little cubicle, watching the clock feverishly until they can finally go home to their equally shitty apartment only to hunch over the keyboard of their computer at home for another eight hours. But here? Completely different people. A little booze and some sexual liberation go a long way for these losers.”

Quentin open and shut his mouth a few times like a fish gasping for oxygen, searching for a response that just wouldn’t come. Not that he could really blame himself, he wasn’t struggling to fill a void with small talk, he was desperately clawing for a reply to some random man who decided to dump the thesis of a paper about the modern disenchanted New Yorker into his lap.

“Um,” Quentin finally sputtered out, only to immediately be cut off.

“But I take it this isn’t your scene,” the man said.

“…Yeah,” Quentin admitted. “My friend kind of dragged me here.”

“And they’re not keeping you company?”

Quentin shrugged. “She… wants me to go out. Be my own person.”

“Then you may as well be here alone. I see. That’s alright, I’m here by myself too.” He extended one of his hands, which was decorated with intricate rings that looked older than both of them combined. “Eliot.”

Quentin felt so much anxiety in that moment his fight or flight response nearly kicked in. It wasn’t his run of the mill social ineptitude, though, oh no. This was a whole other beast. A beautiful stranger had spotted him from the distance and decided that he looked interesting enough to bother to strike up a conversation with, sat down next to him like he knew him, and now deemed him worthy of an introduction. Really? Now? Here? In a night that seemed so hopeless and uncomfortable, the universe decided to cut him a break? Not that he even knew where the fuck to even begin with it.

It took Quentin a moment to remember his name. “…Quentin Coldwater.”

He took the man’s hand in his, shaking awkwardly. They were baby soft. Not that he expected the rough, calloused hands of a blue-collar worker. This was the type of guy who probably got manicures… not that there was anything wrong with that.

“ _Quentin Coldwater_?” Eliot raised an eyebrow, acting like Quentin had just said his name was Titty Mitty.

“Um… yeah. I guess any name would sound ridiculous with a surname like Coldwater, though.”

Eliot gave him a small smile. “No, I like it. It sounds… exotic. Like you spend your days out in the woods, picking wild berries and skinny dipping in streams.”

“Uh…”

“I’m saying you sound like a hippie, Quentin.” He chuckled to himself. “ _Quentin_ … That’s such an interesting combination, you know. A refined English first name with a free love last name.”

“Right.” Quentin almost wanted to tell him his middle name was Makepeace, if only to add more fuel to the summer of love bonfire, but it was then he realized that Eliot was still holding his hand, which immediately killed any train of thought he’d had in that moment.

“Uh… I’m not. A hippie, that is. I would describe myself as more of a nerd, maybe? …I don’t know, I never saw it as a derogatory thing. I like what I like and if that makes me nerdy, it’s a label I’m willing to own. I mean, at least _I_ don’t see it as a bad thing, uh other people…”

Eliot let go of Quentin’s hand, only to raise a finger to his lips. “You’re rambling.”

His tone wasn’t mocking. There was a sincere smile on his face, like he was charmed by the other man’s socially awkward nature. Half of Quentin wanted to melt, and the other half wanted to high-tail it out of there like a squirrel being chased by a dog. He quickly pulled away, blushing.

“I-I, sorry, I just,”

“Relax,” Eliot said. “…Maybe I came on a little too strong. I didn’t realize you’d be so…”

_Viscerally terrified?_

“I… it’s okay,” Quentin said, taking a deep breath. “You're right, I’m not used to… all this.”

Eliot nodded. “I can tell. I suppose then you wouldn’t want to come home with me either.”

Quentin’s mouth nearly dropped open. That’s why Eliot had approached him? He wanted to… no, it was a completely unfeasible idea. Quentin wasn’t a virgin (not that people believed it when he mentioned that fact), but this was far from something he was used to regardless. He barely ever thought of himself that way, anyway. As in, somebody approachable and attractive, somebody a beautiful person would want to hook up with. He realized he had yet to give an answer.

“Um, okay, yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong you’re… you’re fucking hot, but honestly, you’re right, this is all super foreign to me and I’m just not into it. This whole idea, I mean, not you, I mean I am into you, I mean okay not that into you since we just met but-”

“Okay, okay, don’t work yourself up over it!” Eliot said, his smile wide. If he was offended by the rejection at all, it wasn’t showing. Quentin doubted he was, though. If anything, the poor guy had just dodged a bullet. “I wasn’t expecting anything of you, I just wanted to ask. Shoot my shot, just in case. You’re a stranger and I probably will never see you again so I may as well take a chance. Life is short, and all that.”

The man stood up, and in that moment, Quentin realized just how tall he was. He was… intimidatingly attractive. Too much so for Quentin to speak up, though a part of him really wanted to change his mind. That was, despite every other nerve in his body screaming against it.

“But it was nice talking to you,” Eliot offered. “Hopefully the fates are kind and we meet again one day.”

“…Me too,” Quentin said. He smiled despite himself, watching Eliot disappear into the crowd. 

_"Hopefully the fates are kind and we meet again one day."_

_Okay, hold on, who the fuck talks like that?_

Last Quentin checked, it was 2015, not 1885. Who did this guy think he was, Lord Byron or something? Everything about Eliot had been as strange as it was intoxicating. Something was off – not an off that made Quentin feel fear. An off that made him feel… curious. He was confused, he needed answers. Number one question: why him? Out of all the people in the club, why would Eliot bother to proposition him? Was he special? No, no, of course not. Okay, if he were in a Fillory and Further book, maybe, but unfortunately this was real life and he was a Coldwater, not a Chatwin.

“Q? Q! Quentin?” Julia waved a hand in front of her friend’s face. “Hello, Ground Control to Major Tom?”

“Hmm?” He looked down at Julia, who was staring back up at him, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

“You’re doing the thing again.”

“What thing?” Quentin asked.

“The thing where I’m trying to talk to you about the real world only to realize your head’s all the way in outer space. Tell me, what’s it like up there this time of year? Mars still red? Jupiter still gassy?”

“Space is fine,” Quentin said. “Nothing to report.”

“Good to know, but we have an interview in like…” She calculated how much further they had to walk in her head. “Three minutes!”

“Shit, I know, I’m just…”

“Hungover?” Julia chuckled.

“Yeah, me too. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to go clubbing the night before our alumni interview…”

“Yeah, it really wasn’t.”

Julia nudged him playfully. “Oh, come on, you know you needed it. Lord knows I did.”

“I remember you freaking out earlier this morning because you woke up like 15 minutes after you were supposed to.”

“Okay, so it _was_ a bad call. But did you at least have fun?”

“I…” Quentin’s mind drifted back to Eliot.

Julia gasped loudly, making Quentin concerned for a moment, but the expression on her face was anything but upset.

“You met somebody, didn’t you?!” She exclaimed. “Ha, I knew it. Did you take her home with you…? Or him, no judgement here.”

Quentin couldn’t help but smile, knowing her heart was in the right place despite how she disregarded his feelings at times. “Uh… kind of? He and I talked for a few minutes, but nothing came of it.”

Julia continued to stare at him. “…And?”

“And?”

“Did you get his number, his name, literally anything?”

“No. I mean, I know his name. It’s Eliot.”

“Eliot what?”

“He didn’t tell me.”

“Unbelievable!” She gave him a teasingly suspicious look. “You’re not making him up, are you?”

“Trust me, the encounter we had? You can't make that shit up.”

“How come?”

“He was… weird. Like, not _bad_ weird, but _weird_. He carried himself in a way that I’ve never seen before. Like, the 21st century’s answer to Oscar Wilde, in a way.”

Julia nodded thoughtfully. “…I don’t know, sounds kind of sexy to me.”

“I never said he wasn’t sexy.”

Julia grinned. “Well, we should go back tonight. Maybe we’ll see him again?”

“Uh, absolutely not, I’m never going back to another club as long as I live.”

Julia stopped again, and Quentin paused beside her, not being able to hold back a sigh.

“Q,” Julia said. “I love you, which is why I can’t watch you wallow in your own misery any longer. You need to start having a life. Okay, maybe you don’t like clubs, that’s fine. But we _will_ find something – or someone – you actually want that’s not Fillory related.”

“You love Fillory too, Jules.”

“No shit I do! That’s my whole childhood – emphasis on _childhood_. It’s time to grow up, Q. Seriously. We are going to nail this interview and we’re going to move the fuck on with our lives. Fillory will always be a part of us, a part of our friendship, but you can’t let it rule your life. That’s not a life, that’s… living vicariously through fantasy characters. Fun in short bursts, but not actually living.”

“I’m not having this conversation.”

Julia rolled her eyes. “Fine. But I’m telling you, you can’t sit around waiting for something crazy and magical to happen. You’re not a character in a story. You’re a real person.”

Quentin ignored her, and Julia rolled her eyes. It was the same song and dance as always, and they were both tired of it, even if Julia was far too stubborn to give it up. They made it to the stoop of the brownstone they were conducting their interview in. Julia adjusted Quentin’s scarf, a gesture of affection to let him know she wasn’t _too_ mad at him, before knocking on the door. Nobody answered. The pair gave each other a confused look. Julia turned the handle of the door, finding it unlocked, so they let themselves in. It was a nice little living space, and Quentin found his eyes immediately drawn to the grandfather clock. It was an exact replica of the one the Chatwins used in the Fillory and Further series.

“Holy shit,” he said under his breath. He approached it, running his hands over the intricately carved ram’s heads. “Julia! It’s just like in the books!”

“So, the guy interviewing us is a Fillory nerd,” Julia said with a shrug. “That figures.”

“Julia, I don’t think you realize how fucking cool this is. I mean, down to the winding key!”

Julia ignored him, clearing her throat. “Um, hello? Julia Wicker and Quentin Coldwater for the Yale interview…?”

Silence.

Quentin finally pulled himself away from the fantastic clock, turning to face Julia. “Should we look for him?”

Julia frowned. “I guess so. If only to make sure he’s okay, because we have the right time and the right place…”

The two walked further into the house, finding a man slumped over in an armchair. His eyes were shut, and his mouth was hanging open. Julia grabbed Quentin’s arm, nervous.

“Oh my God, is he…?” She trailed off, unable to finish her sentence.

They approached cautiously, getting close enough that Quentin started to hear deep, raspy breaths.

“No… maybe he fell asleep waiting for us?”

“Oh,” Julia said, relieved. “That’s… kind of adorable.”

“Should we wake him up, or would that reflect badly on us?”

Julia furrowed her brow. “We can’t exactly wait around for him to wake up, either.”

She stepped back, signaling that Quentin would have to be the one to bite the bullet. He hesitated for a moment before gently nudging the man’s arm. “Uh, sir…?” The man snapped awake, startling the pair of friends. He turned to face them, his mouth still wide open, revealing a pair of poorly fitting dentures. His lips curved into a smile as he looked Quentin in the eye, his breathing getting heavier. Quentin and Julia both took a step back. Something seemed to snap in the old man in that moment, and he leapt out of his seat with surprising agility, tackling Quentin to the floor.

“Holy shit, Q!” Julia yelled.

“Jules, do something!” Quentin panicked as he fought to wrestle the old man off him. “C-call the police or something!”

There was a loud thwack, and Quentin looked up to notice Julia had thrown a book at the crazy old man. This seemed to slow him down for a moment, but not long enough for Quentin to wriggle free. He was surprisingly strong considering his advanced age - granted, he wasn’t exactly skinny and frail. He was a sizable man, his pot belly hanging right over Quentin as they struggled. Suddenly, Quentin felt a sharp pain in his neck. He cried out, figuring the man had pinched him or hit him or something. Julia ran over, pummeling the man with her satchel, a sensation that couldn’t have been pleasant as she had plenty of heavy books in it.

“Get! The! Fuck! Off! Of! Him! You! Creepy! Old! Bastard!”

The man suddenly jumped up, startling both. He gave them a fake toothy grin. The dentures had fallen out, the only teeth remaining a pair of canines and a stub of an incisor. The man ran out of the house. Quentin and Julia stared after him in utter disbelief.

“What the fuck?” Julia asked. She shook off her shock, turning to him. “Jesus, Q, are you okay?”

Quentin looked himself over. Aside from his neck being sore, he was no worse for wear.

“Yeah. He didn’t hurt me.”

Julia’s face suddenly went ashen. “Oh God, you’re bleeding! He fucking bit your neck!”

“Wh-what?” Quentin’s hand slapped to the sore spot of his neck. When he pulled it back, it was red. “Oh my God, oh my God, Julia I don’t wanna die! Not like this!”

“Q, you’re not gonna die! It’s not that bad it just, it just looks like he cut it, but if he didn’t get your carotid. If he did, you’d be on the floor by now.”

She took his scarf, wadding it up and pressing it to his neck. “Here, hold this, I’m gonna call 911!”

“O-okay…” He listened, pressing hard against his wound.

A shitty, weird night leading into a shitty, weird day. Wasn’t that just his luck?”

——— ☆ • ♧ • • ♧ • ☆ ———

Eliot stirred in bed, feeling a hand run across his hair. He recognized who it was immediately – Margo’s presence was unmistakable. At least to him; he’d spent so long by her side he knew even the sound of her breathing.

“El, I know you’re awake,” she purred, “and if you don’t get your ass up now, I’m gonna stop being nice about it.”

“Good morning to you too, Bambi,” Eliot grumbled tiredly.

Margo perched herself on the edge of the bed, looking down at him. “I caught wind there’s been another attack. This time in Turtle Bay.”

“Margo, you can’t save the feral.”

“No, but I can save the kid he bit. Now get up.”

Eliot opened his eyes, lazily running a hand over Margo’s cheek. She smiled, grabbing onto it and kissing his fingers.

“Margo, you are a strong, independent woman, right?”

“You’re goddamned right.”

“So surely you don’t need me,” he said.

“Sweet, but nice try. I need my arm candy.”

“And I want to stay in bed.”

“Oh my God, are you moping because you couldn’t get a pretty college boy to give you head last night?”

“ _Not_ _moping_. Though he was very cute. I would have loved to… get to know him better.”

He ran his hand over the other side of the bed.

“Tough shit, I haven’t gotten any in a month and I’m starting to get antsy, but you don’t see me going to dive bars climbing whatever seven I can find like a tree.”

Eliot rolled his eyes. "You should, it might take care of your attitude problem."

Margo pursed her lips. The look she gave was one that read _you're lucky I love you_ , and it was true. If they didn't get on so well, she probably would have killed him years ago. He was far to snarky to live. Luckily to her, it was now more endearing than infuriating.

“No, seriously, I don’t get your obsession with the flavor of the month. You bring over all these boys, stinking up my house with their old spice body wash and emotional insecurity, tote them around like designer handbags for a few weeks, then boom. I never see or hear of them again. You may as well just eat them.”

“I do. I just don’t feed without consent. That’s so 19th century.”

“Vampires being politically correct is not a new concept. If anything, I think we’ve lost ourselves along the way.”

Eliot groaned. “Please don’t go on one of your back in my day tirades, I don’t have the stomach for it.”

“Listen, back in the late 18th, early 19th centuries, vampires just _had_ _it_. You wouldn’t understand, you weren’t even born yet.”

“As if Victorian vampires were anymore classy.”

“Victorian vampires ain’t shit!”

“Thanks.”

“Oh honey, you don’t count. I’m the one who made you who you are, not some misogynistic, fang-filing Lestat wannabe. Now come on, we’re wasting time.” She patted his leg, standing up to leave the room. “If you aren’t out dressed and out the door within the next five minutes, I’m calling Todd and telling him you’ve had a change of heart.”

“Oh God, Jesus, fine!”

“That’s what I thought,” Margo smirked, closing the door behind her.

It was dreary and brisk outside, making Eliot long for the hot, long days of summer. The silver lining was he was able to wear his nice vintage peacoat. It was easier to be fashionable in the winter than it was in the summer; at the very least, in winter, you didn’t die of heatstroke in the process.

It wasn't hard to spot which building was the problem: there were police and ambulances lining the street, and Eliot could already hear them chattering on about what was happening. He felt Margo’s hand grip his, and let her take the lead, walking right up to an officer who was blocking the sidewalk.

“Sorry ma’am, we’re taping this area off,” the officer began.

“Excuse me,” Margo said, her eyes practically penetrating his soul.

Her tone was firm, and cold. She didn’t even have to elaborate or make up a lie. It was the power of hypnosis, obviously, but Eliot liked to imagine there was also an element of intimidation in there. The officer let them past, and they walked right up the steps to the house. Eliot immediately smelled blood, and his jaw clenched. That’s right, he didn’t eat last night. Oh well, he could always grab a bag later, even though the thought of cold blood made his stomach turn. Margo waltzed right in like she owned the place, but Eliot paused in the doorframe. He knew where the smell was coming from.

The man, the one from last night, was there. He was sitting at the table, talking to an officer. His neck was bandaged, and he had a disposable coffee cup in his hands, the smell of the cheap brew managing to cut through all the other scents in the air. He seemed just as cautious as he did last night, folded in on himself like at any moment, the officer talking to him was going to hit him. It tugged at Eliot’s heartstrings but in a way, it was cute. Quentin was shy, but sharp as a tack. You could tell just by looking in his eyes. Past the discomfort, Eliot could see the cogs turning in his head. The boy was fascinating. He thought he’d let it go last night, but that visceral feeling of needing to know him came back, gluing his feet to the floor.

“What’s the matter?” Margo asked. She had only stopped walking when she felt her arm be tugged.

“…It’s the guy I struck out with last night,” Eliot said.

“Oh…” Margo looked Quentin up and down. “…He’s not _that_ cute.”

Eliot rolled his eyes. One of the paramedics came up to them, and they were quick to recognize her, even in the disguise.

“Ah, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph riding a tandem bicycle,” Margo growled.

“And just what do you think you’re doing here?” Eliza asked.

“Saving that boy’s life,” Margo said, “Unless you intended on just letting him turn on his own and then murdering him before he even figures out what’s happening.”

“We have a safe spot for people like him,” Eliza said. “You know that.”

“Yeah, in a fucking dungeon underneath your hoity toity little Hogwarts rip off. Listen Liz, I don’t have time for your bullshit. Just let me talk to the guy, would ya?”

“No. The less he knows at this point, the better. Besides, you’ve managed to insert yourself into the aftermath the last three attacks, and we all know how that went. Frankly, I’m not going to allow you to screw this up for us any longer.”

“Eliza, if we don’t help him, he’s going to turn out exactly like the person who bit him,” Eliot intervened. “And, frankly, we don’t trust you not to make things worse. We all know witches and vampires get along about as well as… oh, I don’t know, Protestants and Catholics during the Tudor era. Your people project that onto the fledglings.”

“And for good reason,” Eliza said. “I don’t need to remind you who you’re the protege of.”

“Listen up you snobby little witch bitch,” Margo snapped, getting in the witch’s face, “If you don’t get the fuck out of my way so help me God I’m gonna shove that clipboard so far up your cooch next month you’ll be menstruating splinters!”

“Margo, Jesus, that’s enough!” Eliot said, wrangling her in. “We’re here to help Quentin, not start a turf war.”

Eliza perked up. “You know him?”

“Um…” Eliot kicked himself internally, angry that the man’s name stuck with him so much.

“Oh, El,” Margo sighed. She turned back to Eliza, crossing her arms. “Listen, I’ll cut you a deal. You give us this one. We walk him through the process, set him up with an experienced vampire – not necessarily me or El, there’s thousands of perfectly decent vampires in New York state. We prevent a feral, and he stops being your problem.”

Eliza stared down at Margo for a second. “I’m not an idiot, Miss Hanson. I only need to look at Eliot to know what will happen. Now, as you would say – fuck off!”

She performed an elaborate hand gesture, and suddenly, their surroundings changed. The old, bloody house transformed into a musty, dirt floored basement.

“ _Shit piss fuck cunt cocksucker motherfucker tits!_ ” Margo cried. “So, help me God, when I get my fucking hands on her she’s gonna wish she never fucking left Britain!”

Eliot let out a resigned sigh, leaning against the wall and waiting for Margo to burn her anger out. It was a flaw all vampires had, as it was in their nature – emotions were turbulent for them, magnified by some force inside them. And most had one or two emotions they fell back on. For Eliot, it was his melancholy which he self-medicated for with drugs, alcohol, and sex. For Margo… well. You know. But along with anger, there was passion. He had known her too long to be fooled by her violent outbursts, he knew who she truly was. Margo cared deeply, so deeply that it caused her pain. It was one thing they had in common.

“Margo,” Eliot started.

“I’m ready to commit mass murder," Margo spat "Starting with _her_.”

“Killing sprees are so 19th century," Eliot said. "Besides, she would kill you first, you know. Magic has a bit of an advantage over fangs and fists.”

Margo resigned to her misery, putting her head in her hands. “God, what are we gonna do?”

Eliot walked up to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. She looked up at him. Such beautiful brown eyes: to a stranger she’d seem almost innocent. It’s how she got her ironic pet name.

“I know who he is – at the least, I know his name. We may not have a head start over Eliza and company, but I think we still have a chance. I want to save him as much as you do, Bambi.”

“Oh God, don’t tell me you have a crush,” Margo groaned.

“…I may have a little crush, yes.”

Margo signed wistfully, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Oh, El. You and your human boys.”

“Listen, technically fledglings are no longer human. They're kind of in-betweeny?”

“Don’t argue semantics with me right now, I’m ready to bust a vessel. And there’s no guarantee it’s gonna be one of mine.”

“Noted.”

——— ☆ • ♧ • • ♧ • ☆ ———

Julia had heard about the feral attacks. She was not one of the academic witches – at least in the sense that she went to school for witches, most of what she knew was self-taught or things she learned from fellow hedges. Regardless, everyone who was aware of the existence of magic was also painfully aware of what was going on. Somebody – or something – was turning random people into vampires, who then would go feral, turning more people into vampires. And Julia was terrified that was what had just happened to Quentin. She knew, from the bottom of her heart, that man had been a vampire. Creatures like vampires had a certain magical pulse, an energy that came off them in waves. His was devastatingly rank. It was like smelling a corpse. She felt stupid not defending Quentin with magic, but she knew she couldn’t have. Besides, all her knowledge went out in the window in that moment, replaced with fear and disgust.

Luckily, she hadn’t damaged anything in her bag, despite mercilessly wailing on the creature with it. She didn’t know what she expected. It was shocking it hadn’t bitten her too, instead running away. What was the purpose? What was the point? Then there was the witch, and the other vampires, who’d been attracted to the incident. She wasn’t stupid, she knew they were all going to be after Quentin. How was she supposed to protect him from them? He didn’t even know magic existed. And frankly, she didn’t want to tell him. She’d just look like an asshole. For the longest time, she had told him to give up on Fillory, on the hope for a greater destiny. Meanwhile, she could do magic. It’d make her come off as selfish. Hell, maybe she _was_. Not that Quentin would ever be able to do magic. It wasn’t something that just anybody could do. Still, her heart ached for him, knowing that the reveal would probably hurt him more than help him.

Which was exactly why she wanted to avoid saying anything for as long as possible. She had to, though, to protect him. It was as if she was procrastinating on an essay she didn’t want to write while the due date slowly crept up behind her. It almost was that exact same anxiety, but exponentially worst considering it was much more important in the grand scheme of things. She stepped out of the shower, having been desperate to wash the day off. With a wave of her hand, the water was lifted off her body, and splashed back into the tub with a loud thwack. Her hair was going to take longer, with her having to go one section at a time. _There has to be a better way!_ She chuckled to herself, imagining infomercials for spells.

There was a knock at the door, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Shit, she wasn’t expecting her company so soon. She quickly pulled on some clothes, her hair only half dried, and ran to the door of her apartment. It was James. That wasn’t a sigh of relief so much as another problem on top of her steadily mounting issues.

“Hey, babe, I was worried about you!” He said. “Why didn’t you call me? All you did was text me that you and Quentin got assaulted or something, then you basically jut… ghosted.”

_Shit!_

"Um, yeah, I’m so sorry, I should have called, I just… I’m really shaken up.”

“I totally get it! What happened was crazy. That’s why I wanted to talk to you, make sure you’re okay.”

“That’s really sweet of you, James…”

“Here, let me make you some tea while you finish drying your hair. I didn’t mean to interrupt or anything.”

“No, no, it’s fine.”

 _Maybe blow drying_ was _the better way… dammit, hold on, he couldn’t come in! Not now!_

She stopped him just as he was stepping through the door, holding him back as if he was trying to break in.

“Julia, what the hell? What’s the matter?”

“I just remembered, I uh, I have a lot of studying to do! I need some… some time alone, please.”

James frowned deeply. “It’s always studying with you. Why can’t you just fucking talk to me for once?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you, I’m just busy!”

“Busy with what, Jules!? What else could you possibly have going on that’s more important than _us_?! What is with you lately?”

“Is there a problem?”

Julia nearly sank into the floor the moment she heard the familiar voice. His timing was impeccably bad, as per usual.

“Who the fuck is this?!” James cried.

“Penny Adiyodi, who the fuck are you?”

“The fuck kind of name is Penny?”

“It’s a nickname, asshole!”

James whipped back around to Julia, stepping away from her. “Oh, I see what’s going on.”

“No, you really don’t!”

Just then, as if things couldn't get any worse, Alice came around the corner, five minutes late with a milkshake and a backpack full of supplies. She paused next to Penny, taking in the scene she had just walked in on.

“Uh… is this a bad time? Because you said five ‘o clock, but…”

“No, you’re right,” Penny assured her. “I guess she just didn’t count on her dick of a boyfriend showing up.”

“Unbelievable!” James cried. “You’re cheating on me with _two_ people!?”

“I- _**what** **?!**_ ” Julia cried, too bewildered to fully process the accusation.

“Oh come on, Julia! Two hot people I’ve never seen before show up at your door unannounced in the middle of the afternoon and you expect me not to believe you’re fucking them?! I mean, seriously?!”

“Oh please, you’re the one who wanted a three way with me and Quentin!” Julia snapped, too emotional to realize that really didn’t help her case.

“I was _joking!_ ” James shouted. “It was a _JOKE!_ ” He stormed off, Julia following after him like a kicked puppy.

“James! This isn’t a fucking sitcom! You can’t just misinterpret what’s happening and then walk away without talking to me!”

James stopped short, turning to face her. “Oh, for weeks now you’ve been avoiding having an actual conversation with me, but now you suddenly want to talk?!” He shook his head, scoffing. “Go hell, Jules.”

He continued to storm off, and Julia tried one last time to hold on to one of the only stable things in her life.

“Wait, James! I’m sorry!”

He didn’t bother to look back, simply raising her a middle finger as he rounded the corner, disappearing. Possibly for good. Julia slouched, defeated, and did the walk of shame back to her friends.

“Damn that guy’s insecure,” Penny said, still in disbelief.

“Yeah, seriously…” Alice agreed. “…Hey, are you okay?”

She put a hand on Julia’s arm. She didn’t even realize she’d had tears welling up in her eyes until that moment. She wiped them away quickly, taking in a shuddering breath.

“Yeah, it’s fine, it’s not like my relationship just imploded right in my face or anything.”

“That’s why I don’t date humans,” Penny said. “Or anybody, for that matter. _Way_ too complicated.”

“Penny,” Alice said, annoyed, “if you claim to be a loner and then keep hanging out with us, then you’re either a liar or shitty loner.”

Penny rolled his eyes, strolling into Julia’s apartment. “…Look, it’s not your fault he’s an asshole, Julia. If he can’t take you not talking to him every second of the day, then he’s not worth it.”

“Oh, no, I’m definitely in the wrong here. Sure, he’s an asshole for assuming I’m cheating on him like that, but he’s not wrong about me avoiding him.” Alice bit her tongue to avoid making a comment, probably a disparaging one about him being a sage or a love guru. She licked her lips before turning to Julia. “Do you want to go after him? We can do this another time, it’s fine.”

Julia sighed deeply before shutting and locking her door. “And get yelled at some more? No. There’s no point. I’m gonna let him blow off some steam then try to talk to him. To break up with him.”

“Julia,” Alice started, sadness in her tone.

“Don’t, okay? I just… don’t have time for a relationship right now. I need to focus on school, and this.”

Alice seemed to accept this, putting down the bag and unzipping it. She pulled out an endless pile of candles, notebooks, effigies, and even a tiny glass horse.

“What’s that for?” Julia asked.

“A comfort object,” Alice said. “In case we summon something bad.”

“We’ll be fine,” Julia insisted. “Don’t worry.”

“Not to turn into Alice,” Penny rebutted, “but you realize the failure rate for this spell is like 70%, right? There’s no guarantee you’re gonna summon a Goddess, let alone something even remotely benign.”

“Penny’s right,” Alice concurred. “Opening a portal like this… anything can walk through.”

“You’re the one who wanted to summon a ghost,” Julia said.

“Ghosts are different!” Alice argued. “That’s only a 50% failure rate!”

“And we got on the wrong side of that which is why I’m banned from your campus and you nearly got expelled.”

Alice went through a face journey, twisting and contorting her features as she tried to come up with an argument, or at least a comeback, but she finally settled for waving her hand dismissively. “Still, it’s way less dangerous, which is why I didn’t get expelled… and you didn’t even _want_ to go to Brakebills!”

“They still have a kick ass library!” Julia exclaimed. “I mean, hedges have some good resources, but sometimes I want something that reads more like a research paper than a WikiHow article, you know?”

Alice smirked, pulling out a few books. “You’re in luck today, then. I picked you up a few.”

She handed Julia a stack of books. The one at the top nearly made her drop it.

A History of Vampires and Their Relationship with Other Beings of the Supernatural World.

“What’s the matter?” Alice asked.

“I, uh…” Julia put the books down on her coffee table. “I should probably tell you guys something. It’s the reason James was here in the first place. Granted, he doesn’t know the details.”

“What happened?” Alice asked, concerned.

Penny leaned forward in his seat, staring at her attentively. The way he showed he gave a shit was always through his actions, never words.

“Well… have you guys heard about the feral attack this morning?”

“Yeah, it’s already all over the school,” Alice said. “People are going nuts over it since it was so close.”

Julia licked her lips. “Quentin was the person who got attacked. I was there too; it was the guy who was supposed to be conducting our Yale alumni interview.”

Alice’s mouth dropped, and Penny stared at her with an equal amount of wide-eyed shock.

“Did he get bit?” Penny asked. “Because if he did, you’re in some deep shit.”

“He… he did.” “Jesus Christ,” Penny mumbled.

“You need to tell the school!” Alice said. “Dean Fogg takes incidents like this very seriously; he’ll make sure Quentin is in good hands.”

“The school already knows… a witch was there, disguised as a paramedic. I think it was Eliza.”

“You mean the Vamp Hunter General?” Penny asked. “Shit, dude…”

"Okay, so that changes things." Alice said nervously. “Her program for dealing with fledglings is… definitely not ideal.”

“But you said Fogg could help, right?”

Alice wrapped her arms around herself, as if looking for comfort. “He can, he does have some executive power there, but since Eliza’s involved, I can’t guarantee that’s enough to protect Q from her. There are rumors about what she does, but I don’t know what’s true or what he’s privy to.”

“Well, great,” Julia said. “Oh, and on top of that, I also saw some vampires there.”

“Are you serious?!” Alice exclaimed. “What could they want with Quentin?!”

“Probably to initiate him or make him a protege or something,” Julia said. “I mean, Eliza whisked them away, but they seemed really angry at her. At least, the woman did. I couldn’t hear what she was saying but she got in her face, shouting.”

“A vampire standing up to Eliza like that?” Penny asked. “Damn, she’s lucky they were in public.”

“Wait, what’d the vampire look like?” Alice asked. “If she has a history with Eliza…”

“Oh, I don’t know. Short, long dark hair, brown eyes, woman of color. Oh, and she was with a really tall guy with dark hair.”

Penny leaned forward, putting a head in his hand. “It’s gotta be her.”

Alice shifted from foot to foot nervously. “…If it is, that’s bad news. He has the worst possible witch and the worst possible vampire after him.”

“Who the fuck are you talking about?”

“Margo Hanson,” Alice spat out quickly, as if the vampire’s name would burn her tongue.

“Never heard of her,” Julia said.

“You serious?” Penny asked. “You know, Margo Hanson! The Destroyer. The Vampire Queen of NYC. The Ripper of New Orleans, the Scourge of London. She has like a million nicknames and all of them let you know what kind of bad news she is.”

“Her reputation precedes her,” Alice reiterated. “She really _is_ bad news.”

Julia contemplated this information for a minute. “…Then _I_ have to do it. I have to be the one to help Quentin.”

“He _does_ need to be someone’s protege,” Alice said. “Or else…”

“I know.” Julia said.

“And there’s another problem,” Penny pointed out. “You know, the one where vampires and witches fucking hate each other? If you, a witch, start trying to help a vampire, that’s an automatic target on your back… mine and Alice’s, too.”

Alice had a small smile on her face. “…Penny’s right. We’re in this together. So all three of us are pretty screwed.”

“Oh, come on. It can’t be that hard to unify our kinds, at least in one city.”

Alice and Penny stared at her like she’d just grown a second head.

“…You know that the Bubonic Plague was biomagic intended to kill vampires, right?” Alice asked. “Unfortunately, while a lot of vampires back then ate rats, the rats also spread it to millions of humans via infected fleas, which is why biomagic involving microorganisms has been banned. Like, it's _super_ banned. More restrictions than offensive magic.”

“Not to mention witch hunts,” Penny said. “Vampires were very involved in making sure as many real witches died as possible. Or, you know, were tortured to death.”

“Oh, and the Civil War?” Alice added. “While it was one of the few times vampires and witches worked together because of the mutual interest in ending slavery – not that there weren’t any supernatural slave owners but we’re keeping this discussion simple – there was also a lot of in-fighting that caused thousands of deaths.”

“Okay, so there’s a really long and brutal history there,” said Julia. “Both of our kinds have changed a lot over the years, though. Vampires are a lot less violent, and witches do a lot less meddling in things that should have nothing to do with them. That doesn’t mean we have to get caught in the middle. We can work this out.”

Alice sighed heavily. “Do I need to say more? Like oh, I don’t know, the Mongols? Or World War One? Or West and East Germany?”

“All I’m hearing is that we really liked inserting ourselves into human conflict,” Julia said.

“…I mean, that’s a valid takeaway, but not nearly the one I wanted.”

“Alice is being cynical,” Penny said, backing her up. “But she’s not wrong. I get that Quentin is your friend, but for fuck’s sake, understand that you’re endangering yourself here.”

“I don’t want to hand him over to Brakebills and I don’t want some random vampires kidnapping him and trying to indoctrinate him into something that could be dangerous for him! If I have to create world fucking peace to keep him safe, I will. End of discussion.”

There was a knock on the door, and Julia was relieved at the distraction. It was their fourth person, the one they needed to successfully perform the ritual. Of course, her friends weren’t going to be happy about it, but Julia was desperate. She was being called to by something beyond her understanding, and she had to answer that message. She opened the door, and Marina stepped inside like she owned the place, staring at the two witches already in the living room.

“You got a couple of dorks from Brakebills in on this? Seriously?”

“Listen, two hedges and two academically trained witches is a good balance,” Julia argued.

She turned to find Alice and Penny staring at her in disbelief.

“That tears it,” Alice said. “You are just trying to break me today. You are trying to make me go crazy and become one of those weird old hermits that lives on the banks by the Tappan Zee Bridge, selling tarot card readings and fake shrunken heads!”

“…You realize she’s literally a psychopath, right?” Penny said.

“High functioning sociopath, technically,” Marina corrected.

“Okay BBC Sherlock,” a woman who was still lingering in the doorway interrupted.

Julia noticed her for the first time, and froze, staring in shock. The stranger’s intense blue-green eyes gazed back at her, keeping her in place.

“Marina, who’s this…?” The hedge rolled her eyes.

“Julia, this is Kady. Kady, Julia. She’s our failsafe in case things go south.”

“We don’t need a werewolf!”

“Oh, bullshit,” Marina said. “You do know that this spell has a 70% failure rate, right? If we summon something evil and the circle breaks, we need protection.”

Alice raised an eyebrow and Julia, who quickly looked away.

“Fine. The werewolf can stay.”

Kady stepped inside. “No offense, but I really didn’t ask for your permission.”

“This is _my_ apartment!” Julia exclaimed.

“Property is fake, nobody actually owns anything, it’s an arbitrary concept we made up to help ourselves feel better about the crushing weight of reality.”

“I like this chick,” Penny chuckled.

“Oh, and has an extra precaution…” Marina set a carrier down on the floor, opening it. A black cat walked out, quickly making itself at home by promptly sitting on the floor and licking its taint. “This is my familiar. I’d assume you idiots brought yours but, well, you’re idiots. Hence the werewolf.”

“The spell also recommends comfort objects,” Alice said. “That should work just as well.”

Marina crossed her arms. “Well, if some trickster God pops up in the circle, we’ll see what works better. Actual living beings that repel negative energy… or a trinket from your grandma’s house.”

Alice clutched the horse closer to her chest.

“I invited you here to help, not to bully my friends,” Julia snapped at her.

“What in it for you, anyway?” Penny asked. “What the hell could you possibly want from Our Lady Underground?”

“Well,” Marina explained, “from what I understand she will grant the desires of whomever summons her, and I have a grand plan I’d like to skip a few steps of.”

“I thought she was the Goddess of the Underworld,” Kady interrupted, “not a genie.”

“Obviously she’s not a fucking genie,” Marina snapped. “Just a very powerful Goddess that it’s smart to be on the good side of. Now let’s get this over with, I’m tired of wasting my time with all this bullshitting.”

"I don't like this..." Alice mumbled, but she handed the supplies she'd collected over to Marina, regardless.

Julia didn’t know what they had done wrong. Sure, the odds were against them, but that’s why she had planned everything perfectly. Maybe she could blame the cat, messing up the energy of the room. Maybe she could blame Kady, whose distractingly beautiful eyes watched them intently from the corner. Maybe someone’s pronunciation was off. Maybe it’s because Penny sneezed. Maybe it was because Marina had enough bad energy coming from her own damn self that they were screwed from the beginning. Either way, they did not summon Persephone. They didn’t summon a God at all. At least, Julia didn’t think so. It started off as a swarm of bugs, circling the room. It took her a moment to realize they were moths. A type of moth she had never seen in her life, though. Something alien like that was foreboding enough. But they were attached to a being; a man in a suit, though his face was completely indistinguishable through the cloud if insects fluttering around his head. The worst part was, he didn’t appear in the circle. He came through the mirror in Julia’s bedroom.

“Everybody stay the fuck in the circle!” Marina commanded.

Nobody dared move a muscle. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a wolf with jet black fur, which she quickly realized was Kady, stalking towards the beast. Her hackles were raised, and her lips were curved to reveal a set of wickedly sharp white teeth. Julia felt someone grab her hand, and jumped, only to find it was Penny.

“Grab Alice,” he whispered, “I’m gonna travel us out of here.”

Julia nodded. She nudged Alice, who was standing there, holding the horse close to her face and whispering to herself.

“Alice-”

Alice suddenly let go of the object, which turned into a life-sized horse before it hit the ground. It charged out of the circle and plowed into the unsuspecting man, knocking him off his feet before turning back to its original form, clattering to the floor. Kady, who even as a wolf had a comedically startled look on her face, quickly recovered and took advantage. She leapt on top of him, but struggled to figure out where his neck was supposed to be in the mess of moths. She had hesitated too long. The moths swarmed her, and she jumped back, snapping at them and pawing her face. The beast stood up, and folded his hands, his fingers weaving together. Julia’s stomach dropped. Whoever or whatever he was, he knew magic. He quickly separated his hands, sending out a powerful blast towards Kady. She was launched across the room, hitting the wall with a loud yelp before she landed on the floor, motionless.

“Holy shit,” Julia said, her voice barely a whisper.

She felt Alice grab her hand, and they both looked to Penny. Penny shut his eyes tightly, but with all the fear and adrenaline, not to mention the beast stalking around the room, he was having difficulty concentrating.

“Come on, Penny!” Alice hissed. “Just hold onto something. Somewhere! I don’t care if it’s Brakebills South! Just anywhere but here!”

Julia heard a yowl and turned to find the beast picking up Marina’s cat by the scruff of its neck, holding it up high above his head. Marina gasped loudly.

“Oh, I think the FUCK not!”

She broke the circle, stepping out so she could send a wave of battle magic at the beast. It hit him directly in the chest, causing him fly backwards, dropping the cat as he did so. The cat ran to go hide, hissing and spitting as it went. The beast nearly was launched through the windows, but caught himself, straightening out in an unnatural way.

“Come on, Penny, we have to go!” Julia said, looking up at him desperately.

Penny shut his eyes tighter. Marina, not too slow to realize what they were doing, grabbed onto his free hand. Julia blinked, and suddenly, they were no longer in her apartment. The air felt warm, and bright green grass surrounded her. In the distance, she could see brick buildings. Penny opened his eyes slowly, immediately realizing where they were.

“…Son of a bitch.”

“You brought us to Brakebills?!” Alice exclaimed.

“You said anywhere but there!” Penny argued. “And this was the only place I could think of! Give me a break, I just saved our damn lives!”

An alarm started to go off, and Alice pursed her lips. “Yep, and you brought two people who are banned from campus with us.”

“Oh shit,” Marina said, looking around. “Well, I guess that’s the signal for me to leave.”

She ran off, though Julia wasn’t sure how she intended to get out of there. Frankly, she didn’t care. She was more concerned about Dean Fogg, who was charging towards them. He slowed down when he realized who the meddlers were, though.

“…Out of all the assholes on this campus,” he said, exasperated, “why is it always you three?”

——— ☆ • ♧ • • ♧ • ☆ ———

“So, let’s recap,” Margo said as she went up the stairs to her apartment, “there’s a feral on the loose, we have no idea where the guy he bit is, and Eliza is once again in my hair. There is really no way this day could get any worse.”

“No, there are still a few ways,” Eliot assured her. “For one, some asshole with a crossbow could come shoot us.”

“Oh please, at this point they’d just be putting us out of our misery.”

The smell of baking started wafting to her nose, causing her stomach to growl.

“…How much do you want to bet Diaz let her little lackey make himself at home?” Margo asked.

“Well, we could use a little comic relief at this point,” Eliot said.

Margo rolled her eyes, entering Kady’s penthouse only to be nearly knocked over by the smell of blueberry muffins.

“Oh, Margo, Eliot!” Josh said cheerfully. “You’re just in time, these bad boys just came out of the oven!”

He set the tray down on the counter, whistling to himself. Margo approached, reaching for a muffin, only to have her hand smacked a Star Wars themed oven mitt.

“No touchy!” Josh said. “Did you not hear the _just came out of the oven_ part?”

Margo glared at him. Eliot came up behind her, placing a hand on the small of her back.

“You know how impulsive vampires can be,” he said. “We see something we want; we take it without hesitation.”

Margo looked up at Eliot. He had his default demure expression on his face. But she knew he had to be thinking about him – Q Tip, or whatever the fuck his name was. She’d never seen Eliot be so captivated by somebody so quickly, usually the obsession only kicked in after a few rounds of sex and some mojitos.

“Where’s Kady?” Margo asked. “She said she’d be home by now.”

Josh frowned. “Yeah, that’s what I’ve been wondering. She said Marina was performing a ritual with some hedges and wanted her to come with, but she’d text if things went south.”

“A ritual?” Margo asked. “What the fuck kind of ritual?”

Josh leaned in across the counter, whispering as if he was revealing some forbidden ancient knowledge. “A ritual to summon Our Lady Underground.”

“…Our Lady Underground…?” Eliot asked.

“OH, it’s just a fancy title for Persephone,” Josh explained, going back to his normal demeanor. “You know, Hades’ wife? Anyway, she was supposed to be there in case things went wrong. We werewolves are natural demon repellent, as you know.”

Margo crossed her arms. “And she isn’t back yet.”

“Nope!”

“Have you looked at the time, Josh? It’s 8pm.”

Josh nearly jumped out of his skin, whipping around and grabbing onto the counter. “You don’t think she…?”

“Well, we’d better find out, because if she’s dead my ass is grass and Marina’s gonna mow it,” Margo said.

“That had some extreme sexual undertones, but I agree,” said Eliot.

“Hold on, she texted me the address! I’ll call an uber!”

“We don’t have time to call an uber!” Margo exclaimed.

“How are we supposed to get there!?”

“I have a car!”

“You drive?! In New York City?! You diamond in the rough!”

“Well yeah, I can’t exactly go to and from my home base by bus! Now come on!”

“…OH, my muffins will burn!”

“Turn the fucking oven off and let’s go to the address, asshole!”

She stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her without looking to see if the others were following her.

Josh turned to Eliot, exasperated. “She’s _very_ aggressive!”

“You get used to it,” Eliot shrugged.

Margo’s favorite thing in the world, her prized possession, was her car. This shocked most people. Not because it was a car, but because of the _type_ of car. Looking at Margo, with her In Style outfits, Brazilian blowouts, and manicures, you’d think she’d drive something sleek and expensive. A car that fit the driver. But… not so much.

“You drive an Outback?!” Josh cried out in disbelief.

Yes, out of all the things in the world, the thing Margo loved most was a navy blue 2012 Subaru Outback with Bluetooth and heated seats. Sure, the upholstery wasn’t in the best shape and the button for the driver’s side window didn’t work, but it was hers.

“You’re gonna show some fucking respect to Big Bertha,” Margo said. “She’s the only thing in my life that has yet to let me down. Well, besides Eliot.”

“Glad to know I’m second only to your mom van.”

“Oh, bite me,” Margo chuckled.

Margo was also an impressively good driver. Yes, she was prone to a bit of road rage, and gave a one fingered wave to anyone who happened to cut her off or ride her bumper, but she was safe. She rarely went over the speed limit, stopped at red lights and stop signs, and even slowed down for pedestrians. This was second most shocking thing about her. The first being Big Bertha, the third being her handwriting, which was so bad even a doctor would be appalled. The fourth was that she loved Coldplay unironically (though that was forbidden knowledge only Eliot was privy to).

“We’re here,” Margo said.

She parked next to the building, and the trio got out, looking up towards the top.

“So, just a normal apartment building?” Eliot asked. “Not an abandoned warehouse or an old haunted brownstone? Doesn’t seem like the ideal place to summon the Goddess of the Underworld.”

“Oh, who cares,” Margo said, “let’s just find Kady.”

The apartment was a mess. The floor was smeared with white paint, the suffocating smell of burnt herbs still hung in the air, and there were dead moths everywhere. Margo cringed as one crunched under her boot, and she quickly wiped it off on the rug.

“Oh my God, Kady!” Josh exclaimed.

She was laying on the floor, fully human, curled up in the fetal position. Margo approached, leaning over Josh. Kady stirred, looking up at them.

“Wh… where’s Marina?”

“She left you for dead, that’s where she is,” Margo spat.

“Not shocked,” Kady said. “…Get off me Josh, I can stand up.”

Josh jumped away, raising his hands up. “Whatever you say.”

She used the wall to steady herself, then put her hands on her lower back, stretching. She gasped in pain, not able to move. “…You guys hear that crack? Yep, that was my back.”

The others cringed sympathetically.

"What the fuck happened in here?" Eliot asked.

Kady furrowed her eyebrows, struggling to remember. "The ritual... something was summoned. Something mad evil."

"Is that the reason there's bugs all over the floor?" Margo asked.

"Yeah!" Kady exclaimed. "He... his head was bugs."

"Okay...?" Eliot said.

"And he came in through the mirror," Kady said. "The one above the bathroom sink."

"The mirror?" Josh asked. "That doesn't seem very... right."

"Nothing about that fucking thing was right, Josh."

Margo looked around the room, picking one of the dead moths up by its wing. It was unusual for sure, like nothing on this Earth. She didn't have anywhere to put it other than the pocket of her hot pink coat, the thought of which made her cringe, but she had no choice. Something told her to keep it, though she wasn't sure what instinct that was. She tried to listen to her gut more often than not, regardless.

"He came in through the bathroom mirror..." Josh sang to himself. "And his head was made of mo-oths...."

"Josh?" Margo asked.

"Hmm?"

"Could you maybe shut the fuck up?"

Kady walked up to her, getting in her face. "I don't work for you so you can bully my pack."

Margo raised her eyebrows, not used to people sticking up to her. Not that she intended to be mean to other people, she was just... okay, she was self absorbed. She was more concerned about her own shit than most, and if anybody annoyed her or distracted her or tried to get in her way, she bit their head off. Metaphorically speaking, in the literal sense she was known to _rip off_ heads, but she was getting better about that. 

"So do you know exactly why Marina wanted to summon the Goddess?" Eliot asked.

"She says she has big plans, but Lord knows she'll never let me hear them," Kady said. "I'm not in that deep yet."

"Then get in deeper!" Margo asked.

"With all due respect, Miss Destroyer," Josh said, "that's not really our concern? You hired us to find out if she's the one who's orchestrating all the feral attacks."

"What if this is part of it?"

"Margo, people don't summon Gods to commit petty bullshit like stirring up tension between vamps and witches," Kady said. "They summon Gods if they need a way to do something that would otherwise be impossible. So you know what? Let's just forget Moth Man, and the big plans. Both are above my paygrade."

Eliot seemed to be caught up in though for a moment, but then suddenly pointed at her. "You know what _is_ in your paygrade?"

"What?" Kady asked, immediately suspicious.

Margo raised an eyebrow too, waiting to hear his pitch.

"Look," Eliot explained, "as a leader of the Hudson Valley pack... a top dog, if you will-"

"I will not."

"Okay, fine, how about alpha?"

Kady shrugged. "Not biologically accurate, but it makes me sound like a badass, so I'll take it."

"Excellent, now we can get to the fucking point," Margo chimed in, annoyed.

"Right," said Eliot. "So, you're a particularly good tracker. You can find people and things very easily."

"You're not tying me to a leash and using me like a bloodhound."

"That's not what I'm suggesting at all! I'm just saying, if I gave you a name, in theory, you'd be able to sniff the person out. Metaphorically speaking, that is."

_For fuck's sake..._

"Eliot, we don't need her help finding this guy!" Margo exclaimed. "Google exists. Kady, just stick to what I'm paying you to do, I'll worry about the fledgling shit."

"Aww, man!"

The others turned to Josh, who was picking a broken photo frame up off the floor. He held it up, and Margo's heart skipped a beat. It was a photo of the guy, standing next to the woman who owned the apartment.

"He broke her photos!"

"Let me see that!" Margo said.

She snatched it away, examining it. It wasn't much more to go on, but it was a better lead. Besides, it was an _underworld_ lead. If she could find the hedge witch, she could find the fledgling, and save him from himself. 

"Josh?"

Josh looked at her anxiously, expecting to be chastised again. Instead, Margo took out her wallet and handed him a wad of cash.

"Here, a bonus for making my life a hell of a lot easier."

Josh beamed, and he held up his money to Kady. "Kady! Holy shit! I got a bonus!"

Kady smiled. "Good for you. And you can get a bonus from me, too, if you get Marina's cat back. He's under the bed."

"On it!" Josh said, shoving the money in the back pocket of his jeans before running to the back of the apartment.

"I'll call you later," Kady said to Margo and Eliot, "I think I'm really close to figuring out what exactly she's doing."

"You'd better be, because I'm getting real tired of this shit," said Margo. 

Kady nodded. "Josh, I'll meet you outside! Carrier's on the floor! Good luck!"

She shut the door behind her.

"Oh yeah, and I'm abusive for telling him to shut up," Margo grumbled.

"Let it go, Bambi. You know how Kady is."

He took the photo from Margo, staring at it. She felt almost bad for him - that boy was not idea for crushing on.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Margo asked. 

"But she's a witch," Eliot replied. "She has protection."

"She's a hedge," Margo said. "Hell of a lot easier to get to a hedge than it is to, say, a Brakebills student."

"We'll see you soon, Quentin," Eliot said to the photo.

"...Oh, that's his fucking name!"

Eliot looked at her, stifling a laugh. "Did you seriously forget what his name is?"

"I can only retain so much information at a time, El."

They could hear Josh from the bedroom, struggling to get the cat out from its hiding spot.

"Here, kitty kitty... here, kitty... OW! Hey! Bad kitty! That's bad kitty!"

Margo and Eliot chuckled.

"You know, he's almost goofy enough to be fuckable," Margo said. 

"You're not seriously considering banging him, are you?"

Margo shrugged. "It's a thought..." she sighed. "I don't know, I don't think I will. Right now, I'm waiting for the right person. I'm ready to fall in love again."

Eliot looked at her with surprise on his face, and she immediately became embarrassed, looking at the floor. She was a fool to want something like that, at least in her mind. Everybody she'd ever loved in that way had left her one way or another. Either died, or finally got sick of her. It was worse when they died, honestly. Either way, she kept getting her heart broken, and it was a cycle she couldn't break. She still kept falling for people. You know, like a fool.

"I..."

"It's not stupid to want to love and be loved, Margo," Eliot said. "It doesn't make you weak."

"You're just saying that because you're a hopeless romantic," Margo said. 

Eliot ran a hand over her hair before kissing the top of her head. "So are you, Bambi, you're just in denial."

——— ☆ • ♧ • • ♧ • ☆ ———

Quentin had the flu. At least, he figured he must, because there was no other reason he could think of as to why he was feeling so shitty. He had the shakes and chills, his joints ached, his fever was so high he was surprised the thermometer didn't break, and on top of that, he had just thrown up in the shower. It wouldn't have been a big deal, except it was black, which he was pretty sure meant he was bleeding somewhere in his digestive tract and thus was going to die. In his irrational state, instead of calling 911, or even Julia, he was desperately trying to scrub it out of his shower. Unfortunately for him, it seemed to be sticking to the linoleum very well. It was like tar, almost. Maybe because he had let it sit there while he was trying to pretend it didn't happen? Really, how could he be throwing up tar? Was he turning into some kind of abomination from a B horror movie? Maybe he was; maybe he was watching too much Comet TV. Or maybe too much MST3K? 

There was a knock on the door, and he jumped up, nearly hitting his head on the curtain rod. Julia! She could help him, she always knew what to do. He ran to the door, flinging it open with so much force that the bottom cracked when it hit the stopper. Julia looked at the crack, then back up at Quentin, concern lining her features.

"Hey!" Quentin said. "Happy you're here!"

"Is... is everything okay?"

She was hugging a paper bag to herself, which Quentin took from her before ushering her inside. "Yeah, everything's going great, why?"

"Because you look like you're dying and are acting like you're on meth?"

Quentin paused. He actually did feel like he was on meth. The energy he had now was ridiculous, it was as if he could run laps around the city. "Uh, yeah, I'm not feeling myself for sure, but I think it's just the bug. I'll be okay once I'm better."

"Right... about that..."

Quentin rummaged through the groceries Julia had picked up, grabbing a gallon of orange juice, which he started to drink right from the bottle. 

"Uh, since when are you crazy thirsty?" Julia asked. 

Quentin didn't answer until he had finished the juice, slamming the empty container back down on the counter. "Oh, I don't know, since yesterday. I've also been pissing like a racehorse, for the record. I might be turning diabetic and that thought terrifies me!"

He reached into the bag again, pulling out a carton of milk, which Julia quickly snatched away from him.

"Nope, we are not chugging milk, you will throw up!"

Quentin flashed back to the black vomit, and his face flushed. Julia noticed his expression change, and frowned. 

"Quentin... there's something I need to talk to you about-"

"I don't need the hospital, I'm fine."

"That's not what I was gonna say... I've been putting off telling you this for too long, but you deserve to know the truth."

"Jules, you're freaking me out..."

"Just sit down somewhere, okay? I'll explain everything."

Quentin's anxiety started to make his heart race, but he obeyed regardless, sitting down awkwardly on the couch. Julia walked over to him, eyeballing the deck of cards he kept on the coffee table. She extended her hand, turning her palm upwards. The cards started to rise from the deck, piling up into her hand. Quentin stared in shock.

"Is... is this a fever dream? Am I hallucinating?"

"No, Quentin, this is real life. You're awake, and I'm actually in front of you doing this."

"But... wh-"

"Magic is real."

The words hung in the air. The thing Quentin always knew deep down in his heart to be true, but was always told he was a dreamer or an idiot for believing. That greater good, that destiny, that escape from his shitty urban life, it was all right in front of him. But instead of being held in his hand, it was held in Julia's. She put the cards back down, grabbing a book from her bag and flipping through the pages of a book before handing it to him.

"Here, read these symptoms. They'll sound familiar."

Quentin quickly scanned his eyes across the page, reading aloud to himself. "Symptoms start off indistinguishable from influenza... high fevers, chills, excessive perspiration... evolves slowly as physical aspects begin to adapt... vomiting, tarry black stools... waxy skin... increases in strength and physical stamina... Julia, it's saying I'm dying?!"

"Only technically! Read the cover."

He closed the book, looking at the cover.

A History of Vampires and Their Relationship with Other Beings of the Supernatural World.

"So... I'm..."

"You're turning into a vampire. That old man who bit you? He was a vampire, and he transmitted it to you. It's an STD - supernaturally transmitted disease. Not to be confused with, you know, the other meaning of the acronym. It's only transmitted through blood-to-blood contact, so his mouth must have been bleeding or something."

Quentin slowly set the book down, his mind racing. "Jesus Christ..."

"Yeah, I know, it's a terrible name. They really didn't think of the double entendre, there. Very misleading."

"No, not the STD! The fact that all this time, you've been telling me to grow up and live in the real world, knowing good and fucking well vampires and magic and God knows what else exists!" 

Julia blinked back tears. "Quentin, I couldn't tell you-"

"It's not the fact you never told me you're a witch! I get it, you probably have some council or laws or something! It's the fact that you never thought about what you were saying to me."

"I never said the world wasn't at all good, that there weren't any opportunities for you out there!" Julia argued. "I never fucking said the Fillory and Further books were real either, because they're not! There is no such thing as Fillory, or clock trees, or Ember and Umber, or anything like that! Magic may be real, but it's just as fucked up as anything else in life can be. And you were so caught up in the idea of it being perfect that I... I saw the cycle, Quentin. I couldn't let you keep doing that. You have a very unhealthy relationship with reality."

"Maybe I escape to it so I don't have to feel shitty!" Quentin said. "It's a distraction!" 

"You need help, Quentin!" Julia said. "The books are not helping, they're just a crutch! Do you know what it's like to wake up every day worried to check your phone because you know eventually, you're gonna get the message that your best friend killed himself?!"

"Maybe I want to."

A silence hung in the air, thick and foreboding. Quentin struggled for what to say next. He saw Julia in front of him, now openly sobbing. He felt the tears streaming down his own face. Was he wrong to be mad at her? He felt justified in the moment, but he kept telling himself he knew why she acted the way she did. It was the exact reason she had just given him. She cared. A lot. And even if he could be mad at how she handled it, he couldn't be mad at her for giving a shit in the first place.

"...I checked myself in," Quentin said. "To uh, to a hospital. Stayed there for a few weeks. They put me on medication."

"You never told me that," Julia said softly.

"Yeah... I don't know why I didn't. The medication... it helps a little bit. Makes things less heavy. But it's still like I have an anvil on my chest some days. But at least now I can tell myself I'm trying to get better."

"I'm so sorry, Quentin," Julia said. "I fucked up. This whole time I was trying to fix you, when I was just hurting you more..."

"Yeah, you did. And... I don't know if I can forgive you for it. But I'm not really mad at you either? I don't know... I guess I just don't want to drive away one of the few people that actually cares about me."

That looked like it hit Julia hard, and she nodded, sniffling. "Y-yeah. That's good."

She went over and hugged him, and he hugged her back tightly, not wanting to let go. Julia was his constant, a buoy in the middle of the endless black sea. And he needed to hold onto her now more than ever. 

"...So, I'm a vampire now."

"A fledgling," Julia said, relieved at the change in topic. "But soon you'll be one."

"So... what then?"

Julia pulled away. "...I don't know, I didn't think this through. There's a lot of complications in this situation."

"Like what?"

"Well, for one, you need a more experienced vampire to train you and help you control your impulses or else you will literally go insane and start attacking random people. Which, incidentally, is why this happened to you in the first place."

Quentin frowned. "And there's more...?"

"Millennia old blood feud between vampires and witches, which is a problem because you're on the radar of the witches who deal with this sort of thing. And from what I understand, it doesn't end well."

There was a knock on the door, and Quentin's heart started to pound in chest so loudly he could hear it.

"Shit," Julia grumbled.

"Hello?" A familiar voice echoed. "Quentin?"

It took him a moment to realize where he knew that voice from, but the moment he did, his jaw dropped.

"Eliot?!"

"Eliot?" Julia gasped. "You mean, as in the guy you met at the club, Eliot?!"

"Yeah!"

"Oh, thank God, it's just a stalker then."

Quentin shot her a look.

"What? How else would he know your address?"

Quentin went to answer the door, suddenly realizing how disgusting he looked. He was sweating so bad his t-shirt had stained, his hair was a mess, he was wearing old sweatpants... definitely would kill any feelings Eliot had for him, for sure. He swallowed hard, opening the door a crack.

"Hey, what are you doing here...?"

"We need to talk."

"About what?"

Eliot pushed the door open further, seeing Julia. "Oh, hey little witch. Just wanted to let you know, you need to get some new connections, because the ones you already have squealed like pigs the moment Margo pulled the bowie out."

Julia's jaw dropped. Quentin took a step back from the doorway, looking Eliot in the eye.

"Wh... what do you want?"

"Nothing bad," Eliot said. "You were just tricky to find. Shocking, since you have the most Google-able name in all known existence. By the way, I was trying to find you because in case you didn't know, you're going full Nosferatu. Jacked teeth and all. Which is why you need me."

Julia glowered at Eliot. "Quentin, don't go with him, this is bad news."

Eliot rolled his eyes. "I know, I know, Margo's reputation is not the best, but I promise you she's not going to bite. Believe it or not, she wants to help you. She cares about your well being, like any other fledgling."

Quentin looked to Julia, then to Eliot, and took another step back. "Yeah, sorry, but I-I think I'm gonna stick with Julia right now."

Eliot sighed. "Listen, I'm not much for threatening, but I'm not giving you a choice here. You're coming with me. Uber's outside eating fuel, chop chop. Good news, our driver's taste in music is not shit, so unless you want to miss the best parts of The Wall..."

Julia stepped up beside Quentin, grabbing his hand. "If he goes, I'm coming with him."

"Oh. Cute. Fine, but Margo's not going to be happy, and the consequences of stepping on her toes are yours to bear." He stepped back, extending an arm. "Ladies and proteges first."


End file.
